CHAPTER III

Imperial literature--The _Jeunesse de Henri IV_.--Mercier and Alexandre Duval--The _Templiers_ and their author--César Delrieu--Perpignan--Mademoiselle Georges' rupture with the Théâtre-Français--Her flight to Russia--The galaxy of kings--The tragédienne acts as ambassador

In this same year, 1802, Georges was engaged at the Théâtre-Français under Bonaparte's protection, and Duchesnois under Joséphine's, at a salary of four thousand francs each. Six months later they were practically members of the company. This was the very highest favour that could be bestowed on them; and it was owing to the influence of Bonaparte on the one side, and that of Joséphine on the other, that this double result was attained.

"How was it that Napoleon came to desert you?" I asked Georges one day.

"He left me to become an emperor," she replied.

Indeed, the events which set France agog after the débuts of Georges and of Duchesnois as tragedy princesses, was the début of Napoleon as emperor.

This last début was certainly not free from intrigues: kings mocked; but the great actor who provided the world with the spectacle of his usurpation silenced them at Austerlitz, and from that time until the retreat from Russia it must be acknowledged that he carried his audience with him.

Meanwhile, the literature of the Empire held on in its own course.

In 1803, Hoffmann's _Roman d'une heure_ was played. In 1804, _Shakespeare amoureux_ by Alexandre Duval, _Molière avec ses amis_ by Andrieux, and the _Jeune Femme colère_ of Étienne were played. In 1805, the _Tyran domestique_ and the _Menuisier de Livonie_ of Alexandre Duval were played; Charon's _Tartufe de mœurs_, Bouilly's _Madame de Sévigné_ and the _Filles à marier_ of Picard; and in 1806 appeared Picard's _Marionnettes_, Alexandre Duval's _Jeunesse de Henri V._ _Omasis_ or _Joseph en Égypte_ by Baour-Lormian and the _Templiers_ by Raynouard.

The two greatest successes of this last period were the _Templiers_ and the _Jeunesse de Henri V._ The _Jeunesse de Henri V._ was borrowed from an extremely light comedy. This comedy, which was printed and published but not played, was called _Charles II, dans un certain lieu._ One phrase only of Mercier disturbed Alexandre Duval. Mercier had quarrelled with the Comédie-Française, and it had sworn, in its offended dignity, that never should a play by Mercier be acted in the theatre of the rue de Richelieu.

On the night of the representation of the _Jeunesse de Henri V_., Alexandre Duval strutted up and down the lounge. Mercier came up to him and, touching him on the shoulder, said, "And so, Duval, the Comédie-Français declared they would never play anything more of mine, the idiots!"

Alexandre Duval scratched his ear, went home, had the jaundice and wrote nothing for two years.

But the real success of the year, the literary success, was the _Templiers._ This tragedy was indeed the most remarkable dramatic work of the whole period of the Empire; it had, besides, an enormous success, produced piles of money, and, I believe, carried its author at one bound into the Academy.

The part of the queen was the second rôle Mademoiselle Georges had created since her first appearance at the Français four years before. At that time tragic creations were, as will have been observed, rare. Her first rôle had been as Calypso in the tragedy of _Télémaque._ Who ever, the reader will ask, could make a tragedy out of _Télémaque_?

A certain M. Lebrun. But, upon my word, I am like Napoleon and in danger of deluding myself. Was it _Lebrun-Pindare_? Was it Lebrun the ex-Consul? Was it Lebrun the future Academician, peer of France, director of the imperial printing-house? I really do not know. But I do know that the crime was perpetrated. Peace be to the culprit, and whether dead or alive, may he sleep a sleep as calm and as profound as his tragedy, wherein Mademoiselle Duchesnois played the rôle of Télémaque to Georges' Calypso, and which, in spite of the combined talent of these two great actresses, failed as completely as did the _Cid d'Andalousie,_ twenty years later, in spite of the combined efforts of Talma and of Mademoiselle Mars.

As we were present at the first representation of the _Cid d'Andalousie_, we know who its author was. His name was Pierre Lebrun. Napoleon was delighted with the immense success of the _Templiers._ He continued each year to demand his three hundred thousand conscripts from the Minister for War and his poet from the Chancellor of the University.

He fancied he had found his poet in M. Raynouard. Unluckily, M. Raynouard was so busy all the week that he could only become a poet on Sunday. His occupation, therefore, prevented him from producing more than three tragedies: the _Templiers_, of which we have spoken; the _États de Blois_, which was not so good as the _Templiers_; and _Caton d'Utique_, which was not so good as the _États de Blois_. Napoleon was desperate. He went on clamouring for his three hundred thousand conscripts and his poet.

In 1808, after four years' reign, he possessed M. Raynouard and M. Baour-Lormian, the author of the _Templiers_ and the author of _Omasis_. This was only at the rate of half a poet a year. A reign of fourteen years should have produced him a Pleiad.

We are not speaking of the poets of the Republic, of the Chéniers, the Ducis, the Arnaults, the Jouys, the Lemerciers: they were not poets of Napoleon's creation. And Napoleon was rather like Louis XIV., who counted only the dukes of his own creation.

It was about this time that the scouts despatched by M. de Fontanes began to make a great row about a new poet whom they had just discovered, and who was putting the finishing touches to a tragedy. This poet's name was Luce de Lancival. We have already spoken of him, when relating what he did and what Napoleon said to him. This worthy M. Luce de Lancival had already committed two youthful indiscretions called _Mucius Scævola_ and ... and ... upon my word! I have forgotten the other title; but these indiscretions were so small, and their fall had been so great, that no questions arose concerning them.

Unfortunately, Luce de Lancival laid great store by _Hector._ He was appointed professor in belles-lettres and he intended to "profess." This was the third poet who came to nothing in Napoleon's hands.

A great event had taken place at the Théâtre-Français during the preceding year, in connection with the production of the tragedy of _Artaxercès._ There was a certain individual in Paris who, each time Napoleon asked for a poet, touched his hat and said, "Here am I!" This was César Delrieu, author of the aforesaid tragedy. We knew him thoroughly. Heaven could not possibly have gifted anyone with less talent, or more ingenuous self-conceit and evident pride. The sayings of Delrieu form a repertory which hardly has its equal, unless in the archives of the family of Calprenède. We also knew a young lad called Perpignan, who met with every kind of misadventure, and who ended by becoming the censor. His task was to attend the final rehearsals of plays in order to see that there was nothing in the dress of the actors that might offend morality, nothing in their acting which might bring the Government into contempt and lead to the upheaval of the established order of things. Once in his lifetime he had a piece performed at the Gymnase which failed egregiously, and in connection with which Poirson never ceased to reproach him, on account of the expense to which he had been put over a stuffed parroquet. The play was called the _Oncle d'Amérique_, and by inscribing Perpignan upon the roll of men of letters, it made him, nolens volens, hail-fellow with such men as M. de Chateaubriand and M. Viennet. Let us hasten to add, to the credit of Perpignan, that he did not take advantage of this privilege as a rule, except to make a jest of himself. Still, he did take advantage of it.

One night he met Delrieu, as he was ascending the magnificent staircase that led to the lounge of the Odéon.

"Good-evening, confrère," he said.

"Simpleton!" replied the annoyed Delrieu.

"That is exactly the light in which I view it myself," responded Perpignan, in the most gracious manner imaginable.

When _Artaxercès_ was again put on the stage, at the time when we saw it, and after Delrieu had clamoured for its revival for twenty years, the play, notwithstanding its being cracked up by its author, was what is called in theatrical parlance _a dead failure (un four complet)._

A fortnight later he was met by one of his friends, who said to him--

"So you have made it up with the Comédiens français?"

"With them? Never!"

"What have they done to you now?"

"What have they done to me? Think of it, the scoundrels! ... You know my _Artaxercès_, a chef-d'œuvre?"

"Yes."

"Well, they played it on just those days when the house is at its emptiest!"

And he never forgave the bad turn played him by the gentlemen of the Comédie-Française.

But Delrieu's sayings would lead us too far astray. Let us go back from the revival of _Artaxercès_ to its first performance, which will bring us to 30 April 1808.

Mademoiselle Georges had created the rôle of Mandane, and had played it four times; but on the day of the fifth performance an ominous rumour spread through the theatre, and from the theatre out into the town. Mandane had disappeared. A satrap more powerful than Arbaces had carried her off--His Majesty the Emperor of All the Russias.

The Russians have never had any other aristocratic literature than ours: Russians do not usually speak Russian; instead of this, they talk much better French than we do.

The Théâtre-Français was rich in crowned heads at this period. In tragedy queens alone it could boast Mademoiselle Raucourt, Mademoiselle Duchesnois and Mademoiselle Georges.

The Emperor Alexander naturally considered that the rich should lend to the poor. Besides, the Russians had just lost Austerlitz and Eylau, and they felt quite entitled to some compensation. The business was arranged through the intermediary of the exalted Russian diplomatic corps. M. de Nariskin, who fulfilled the functions of Grand Chamberlain, commissioned M. de Beckendorf, on behalf of the emperor, to arrange the flight. It was conducted with the utmost secrecy. Nevertheless, the telegraph wires along the route to the North were busily at work within twenty-four hours after the disappearance of Mademoiselle Georges.

But, as everyone knows, actresses who escape from the Théâtre-Français fly on faster wings than those of the telegraph, and not one has ever been overtaken. So Mademoiselle Georges entered Kehl just as the news of her flight reached Strassbourg. This was the first defection the Emperor Napoleon had experienced; that Hermione, the ungrateful Hermione, should go over to the enemy! Mademoiselle Georges did not stop until she reached Vienna and the salon of Princess Bagration; but, as we were at peace with Austria, the French Ambassador bestirred himself, and laid claim to Mademoiselle Georges; this was equivalent, in diplomatic terms, to a _casus belli_, and Mademoiselle Georges received an invitation to continue her journey.

If the reader does not know what a _casus belli_ is, he can learn it from M. Thiers. During the lifetime of two or three ministries M. Thiers presented two or three _casus belli_ to the Powers, to which the Powers paid not the slightest attention. Consequently they came back to him, quite fresh and unused.

Four days later, the fugitive stopped at the house of the governor of Vilna, where she made her second halt, to the accompaniment of applause from all the Polish princesses, not only in Poland, but throughout the world. It is a well-known fact that no persons are so abundantly scattered abroad over the face of the earth as Polish princesses, unless it be Russian princes. Ten days later, Mademoiselle Georges was in St. Petersburg.

When she had appeared at Peterhof before the Emperor Alexander, before his brothers Constantine, Nicolas and Michel, before the reigning empress and the dowager empress, Mademoiselle Georges, preceded by the reputation of her great fame, appeared at the theatre in St. Petersburg. It goes without saying that at the theatre of St. Petersburg the orthodox style of drama was in vogue. Alexander might carry off Napoleon's actors; but, alas! he could not carry away his poets: poets were too rare in France for Napoleon not to keep an eye on those he possessed. Chateaubriand and Madame de Staël, the two great poets of the time, travelled abroad much; but they were not dramatic poets.

So _Mérope, Sémiramis, Phèdre, Iphigénie_ and _Andromaque_ were played in St. Petersburg, with more pertinacity even than they were in Paris. Nevertheless, if literature lagged behind, politics, at all events, kept to the front.

Napoleon conquered Prussia in a score of days: he dated his decree concerning the Continental blockade from Berlin, and made his brother Jérôme, King of Westphalia, his brother Joseph, King of Spain, his brother Louis, King of Holland, his brother-in-law Murat, King of Naples, his son-in-law Eugène, Viceroy of Italy. In exchange, he deposed an empress. Joséphine, relegated to Malmaison, had yielded her position to Marie-Louise. The great conqueror, the wonderful strategist, the superb politician, had not realised that, whenever a King of France joined hands with Austria, misfortune dogged his footsteps. Be that as it may, the terrible future was still hidden behind the golden clouds of hope. On 20 March 1811, Marie-Louise gave birth, in the presence of twenty-three persons, to a child upon whose fair head his father placed the crown which, nineteen centuries before, Antony had offered to Cæsar.

Europe at this period had, after the fashion of the Northern oceans, a few days of calm between two gigantic storms, on which it could think of poetry. During one of these days of calm the Emperor Napoleon gave a reception at Erfürt to all the crowned heads of Europe. His old and faithful friend, the King of Saxony, lent his kingdom for this sumptuous entertainment.

Napoleon invited the kings and queens of art as well as the kings and queens of this world. Princes crowned with golden or bay crowns, princesses crowned with diamonds or with roses, flocked to the rendezvous.

On 28 September 1808, _Cinna_ was performed before the Emperor Napoleon, the Emperor Alexander and the King of Saxony. On the following day, the 29th, _Britannicus_ was played. In that interval of twenty-four hours, the august assembly was increased by Prince William of Prussia, Duke William of Bavaria and Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, who, later, was to lose three crowns at one fell blow, through the death of his wife, the Princess Royal of England, and the child which, mother-like, she took away to the grave with her: with them, he lost that famous trident of Neptune which Lemierre called _the sceptre of the world._

On 2 October, Goethe arrived upon the scene. He had the right to present himself: of all the names of princes we have just mentioned (without wishing to hurt the feelings of the gentlemen of the rue de Grenelle) the name of the author of _Faust_ is perhaps the only one which will survive.

On the 3rd, _Philoctète_ was played. It was during this performance that Alexander held out his hand to Napoleon at the line--

"L'amitié d'un grand homme est un bienfait des dieux!"

--the hand that, three years later, he was to withdraw, and for want of which Napoleon floundered in snow and bloodshed from Moscow to Waterloo. During the second act of _Philoctète_ the King of Wurtemberg arrived, but no one troubled to make way for him. He took his place on one of the seats reserved for kings.

On 4 October, _Iphigénie en Aulide_ was played. The King and the Queen of Westphalia arrived during the piece.

Next day, _Phèdre_ was performed. The King of Bavaria and the Prince-Primate arrived during the matinée.

On the 6th, the _Mort de César_ was represented. The crowned audience was in full swing. There were present two emperors, three kings, one queen, twenty princes and six grand dukes.

After the play, the emperor said to Talma--

"I have kept the promise at Erfürt that I gave you in Paris, Talma; I have made you play before an audience of kings."

On 14 October, the anniversary of the battle of Jena, Napoleon left Erfürt, after having given the cross of the Legion of Honour to Goethe.

Four years later, almost to the day, Napoleon entered the capital of the Russian empire in the guise of its conqueror. He dictated a decree from the Kremlin, written by the flickering light of the burning city, regulating the interests of the company of the rue de Richelieu. Henceforth it was war to the death between the two men who had met at Tilsit on the same raft; who had sat side by side at Erfürt; who were called by the names of Charlemagne and Constantine; who divided the world into two parts, appropriating to themselves respectively the East and the West, both of whom were to die in a tragic fashion within five years of each other, the one in the midst of the Atlantic Ocean, the other on the shores of the Sea of Azov.

The actors of the Comédie-Française learnt at St. Petersburg the news of the emperor's entry into Moscow. They could not stay in an enemy's capital; they obtained leave to go, and set out for Stockholm, which they reached after a three weeks' journey in sledges.

A Frenchman reigned in Sweden, or rather held the crown above the head of the old Duke of Sudermania, who was king for the time being. Bernadotte received the fugitives, as they had received his fellow-countryman Henri IV. The actors made a halt of three months in Sweden, our ancient ally, which, under a French king, became our enemy. They then left for Stralsund, where they made a sojourn of a fortnight. On the night before their departure, M. de Camps, Bernadotte's orderly staff officer, sought out Mademoiselle Georges. Hermione was to be utilised as ambassador's courier. M. de Camps brought a letter from Bernadotte; it was addressed to Jérôme-Napoleon, King of Westphalia. This letter was of the very highest importance; they did not know how best to conceal it. Women are never at a loss in hiding letters. Hermione hid the letter among the busks of her corset. The busk of a woman's corset is the sheath of her sword.

M. de Camps retired only half satisfied; swords were so easily drawn from their sheaths in those days. The ambassador in petticoats left in a carriage that had been presented to her by the crown prince. She held a jewel-case on her lap which contained upwards of three hundred thousand francs worth of diamonds. One does not spurn three crowns without getting some windfall or other. The diamonds in the casket, and the letter among the busks, arrived safely at a destination within two days' journey from Cassel, the capital of the new kingdom of Westphalia. They travelled night and day. The letter was urgent, the diamonds were such a source of fear!

Suddenly, in the dead of night, the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and the gleam of a forest of lances appeared. A terrific shouting arose: they had fallen into the midst of a swarm of Cossacks. A crowd of hands were already stretched towards the carriage door, when a young Russian officer appeared. Not even Hippolytus looked more beautiful in the eyes of Phedra. Georges introduced herself. Do you recollect the story of Ariosto, the picture which shows the bandits on their knees? Genuflexion before a young actress was far more natural than before a poet forty years old. The band of enemies became a friendly escort, which did not leave the beautiful traveller until she reached the French outposts. When once she was under the protection of these, Georges and the letter and the diamonds were safe. They reached Cassel. King Jérôme was at Brunswick. They set out for Brunswick.

King Jérôme was a very gallant king, very handsome, very young; he was hardly twenty-eight years of age; he did not seem to be in any great haste to receive the letter from the Crown Prince of Sweden. I do not know whether he received the letter or whether he took it. I do know that the lady-courier spent a day and a night in Brunswick. It will be readily admitted that she required at least twenty-four hours to rest after such an adventurous journey.